Obsessed
by Crisis Criteria
Summary: All that chub was cute when she was 4, but now that she's 17... I was really depressed when I wrote this, by the way, so don't be expecting another playful Constance story. Rated Teen for nudity... it's not that descriptive. Also, there's some language.


124.8 pounds. Crap. That's six more than the last time I checked. I bite my lip and taste the blood. Wincing, I wipe it off. Why can't I have developed a fondness of exercise like Kate? But no. I'm the one with the fondness of cold hard carbohydrates. Cute when I was 4, maybe, but now that I'm 17…

I scowl and step of the scale. _Don't cry, Constance, don't cry,_ I beg myself. I dash up the stairs and fling the door open, running straight into my bedroom. My face collides with my pillow as my entire chubby body collapses on the bed. I moan into my lavender pillowcase.

It's 10:38 PM. My curfew is 11. This gives me about twenty minutes to prepare. I figure I'll just skip the shower tonight. Looking at my face in the mirror makes me want to cry. I slowly get up. _Don't look, Contraire; just walk on by_, I think, stepping past the mirror. But my vanity begs me to check, in the hopes that something will have changed. I wince as I turn to the mirror. Slowly, I reach out, touch my fingers to the glass. My eyes are surrounded by nasty red skin, due to all my tears. My cheeks are red and pudgy. I poke them, shuddering as I feel the chubbiness. And my hair… it hasn't been brushed in four days.

"Constance? Honey, it's shower time!" Pencilla's voice makes me want to scream. Sometimes I think it's frustrating, how she treats me as if I'm still six, but right now I don't notice that. I hear her feet on the stairs. "You didn't shower yesterday. Do you know how important hygiene is, especially now that you're in high school? Sweetie, the other kids will notice, when they're all looking for friends…" _I have friends,_ I want to scream in her face. So what if they're nine and ten years older?

The door opens. I scream. Pencilla purses her lips and folds her hands primly in front of her. "Connie, honey…"

"Constance," I correct, trying to stop myself from shivering. That was truly terrifying. Pencilla is oblivious.

"What's wrong…?" She takes a step closer. I shrink against the wall. Doesn't she notice my condition? I'm not in the mood to be talked to right now. In fact, far from it! The old temptation to compose a nasty poem rises. I ignore it.

"N-nothing." I head to my dresser and yank open the pajama drawer. I can't wear anything with buttons; I couldn't bear watching them pop off again! Nothing skintight. I decide on the last clean pair of baggy pajamas I have. They're a nasty gray color, but anything else would surely emphasize my surplus of ounces.

"All right, then go take that shower. And you really need to wash that hair. Did you use shampoo last time?" She stands menacingly in the doorway, her arms crossed.

I shove her aside, my pajamas tucked under my arm. "Maybe," I mumble in response, running quickly to the bathroom. Our bathroom mirror is huge. I squeeze my eyes shut as I scurry past. _That's right, Constance. Just don't look and you'll be fine._

But then I realize. The worst part of showering starts now: the undressing time. The moment when I yank off my clothes and have to look at my naked body in the bathroom mirror, noticing the crease lines on my stomach from bending over, the way my thighs blubber out to the sides.

I yank off my shirt quickly, my back to the mirror. I've learned that's the best position for undressing. Unfortunately, I know I'm going to have to eventually turn around and see myself in all my naked glory.

Glory. Ha.

My bra comes off next. It's an ucky beige color, not like the cute colorful polka-dotted lace-embellished ones the girls changing for gym class wear. I can't even look at my breasts right now.

My baggy sweatpants are dropped to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut when I pull off my underwear. My butt cheeks are under there, and everyone knows the most fat gathers in that particular spot.

It's all done. I turn back around, keeping my eyes closed. I take a few tentative spots in the direction of the shower. I extend my arms and attempt to feel my way over there. Horrifyingly, this isn't going to work. I open my eyes.

My face flames up upon seeing my naked form reflected. I hurry into the shower and close the frosted door as quickly as I can. My fingers get slammed between the door and the wall. I scream, then quickly lock my jaws together. I can only hope Pencilla didn't hear.

I turn on the water and relax a bit, feeling it wash over my spine. But my body quivers. I'll have to do this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the next, and so on until I die.

Maybe it would be better to die.

But I'm not the suicidal type. And everyone would miss me. No, committing suicide would be a stupid and selfish thing to do.

Is it the only alternative to this torture?

If I was skinny, I'd have a boyfriend. I wouldn't have to go through this. Maybe I should just attempt to eat less and exercise more.

But isn't that how girls get eating disorders?

I collapse on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water soothe me. It's like getting a massage. But right now, it doesn't seem that soothing all of a sudden. My thoughts fly everywhere. And then it hits me.

I need to burn all those calories off. All of them. What I ate for breakfast, what I ate for lunch, what I ate just recently for dinner. And dessert!

Oh, shit.

I need to stop this type of thinking! _Remember when you used to care about other things of more importance, Constance? _my mind whispers to me. _Poetry, for instance?_

I don't need to burn off any calories, I decide. All I need to do is… is…

I'm out of ideas.


End file.
